


Four Times Sten Got Kissed And Did Not Appreciate It

by DictionaryWrites



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-01
Updated: 2014-04-01
Packaged: 2018-01-17 18:27:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,056
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1398046
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DictionaryWrites/pseuds/DictionaryWrites
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>And one time he did.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Four Times Sten Got Kissed And Did Not Appreciate It

**1**

Sten had only just awoken, and Amell had been setting out with Morrigan and Wynne to buy new robes and staffs in some Denerim store intended for saarebas; they had awoken early, and Wynne had woken a mildly bleary-eyed Sten to a morning that had barely yet seen sun.

"Breakfast is cooking. I will see you later, Sten." And then she had dipped, pressing dry lips to his forehead, and had been gone.

Tired, and mildly baffled by this, Sten had furrowed his brow and glared into the middle-distance; he was not  _Alistair_ , feigning the role of the babe still in arms. He did not need kisses from old, frustratingly maternal saarebas. 

In truth, he did not really understand the  _kiss_  business. Why did they do these things? Touch their lips to other people’s faces, hands, bodies and mouths? It was strange.

"You are so  _lucky_ , my Qunari friend. I have been trying to coax her into kissing me for months.” Zevran’s voice was teasing as he regarded the other man, and Sten let out a sigh.

“ _Vashedan_.” Sten muttered, and he ignored Zevran’s delighted laughter.

**2**

Sten did not know at first. He ate breakfast as he usually did, sat by the fire between Oghren ( _disgusting_ ) and Amell ( _bearable_ ). The eggs tasted good, because Wynne had cooked them and Zevran had put in the herbs; this time, Alistair had not been anywhere near them.

This, Sten had assured himself.

Oghren was snorting into his food, rather like the pig he somewhat resembled, and that was not new. What was different was that Amell was smirking, and that Zevran was giggling, and that even Wynne had a little grin on her face.

Sten frowned.

"Does the Qunari know that it has wax upon its cheek?" Shale’s voice sounded gleeful, amused; she knew full well that, in fact, he did  _not_  know.

"What?"

"On its right cheek. Purple wax." Zevran began to guffaw, leaning heavily on Oghren and drawing a dozen cursed protests from the dwarf’s mouth, and Sten wiped at his own cheek.

"What is…?" Sten scowled. 

"The swamp witch is conspicuously absent, I notice. Maybe this is its real reason for taking the useless prince and the sister with it on its journey." Shale said, and then she laughed, amused.

"The useless prince did not go willingly, though." Amell said in a diplomatic tone.

"Morrigan  _kissed_  me?” Sten asked, and Wynne chuckled a little.

"Yes, she did. Left quite the mark."

“ _Basra-vashedan_.”

"You keep saying that!" Zevran complained. "But what does it  _mean_?”

**3**

The assassin was drunk. Shale had carried “the painted elf” home, amused at the way he was speaking to her of shooting every bird from the sky and cooking them all into a stew; it was for this reason that Shale had carried him home to camp.

"Sten!" The elf yelled, and Sten looked up, squinting at Zevran where he was perched most gleefully atop Shale’s shoulder.

"The painted elf is most inebriated. He has been speaking of birds." Shale said, and Sten gave a stout nod as Zevran scrambled down, running forwards toward Sten, stumbling a little on ground that was not uneven. 

“ _Sten_.” Zevran whispered, gesturing for the other man to lean down, and the Qunari let out a sigh, but complied. “Your face is just, just,  _just_ -” He swayed, and then fell half against Sten’s chest. “I am very tired.”

"You are very drunk." Sten said disapprovingly. "Go to bed." 

"Come to bed with me. Show me your _sword._ ”

"No. Go to bed alone."

"Alone?" Zevran repeated, looking desperately upset at the idea.

"With Amell then. Leave me be."

“ _Amell!_ " Zevran said, and he grinned widely, as if the thought had only just occured to him. "Yes!" With that, he grasped Sten by the cheeks and kissed him hard on the mouth before running off to the mage’s tent.

Sten froze, expression displeased.

"That was disgusting. The painted elf is attempting to woo you?"

"It was disgusting." Sten agreed, and moved to his own bed to sleep.

**4**

"You are  _fascinating_.” The Rivaini said, leaning over the table and regarding him with absolute fascination, breasts all but bared over the tightened ribbons of her corset. 

"If you say so."

"He is the strong and  _silent_  type.” Zevran purred on Sten’s side, and the Qunari pulled a face.

"Why am I here?"

"Because you are  _fascinating_.” Zevran and Isabela said together, and Sten curled his lip, making a face. Isabela grasped the Qunari’s hand in her own, bringing it to her lips and kissing its back.

"Why do you do these things? Kisses?"

"They’re nice." Isabela said, and her hands stroked pleasant patterns over Sten’s hands - they felt good, warm and gentle. Were all human hands this warm? "Don’t you like to be kissed, pretty Qunari?"

"I am not pretty." Sten insisted, and drew his hand away.

**+1**

"Leliana?" Sten said, the name a question as he regarded the woman before him with a perplexed expression. "I am leaving for-"

"For home, yes, I know!" Leliana spoke cheerfully, regarding the Qunari with an expression of utter delight. "I wanted to bid you farewell!"

"I will fare well."

"Oh,  _shush_.” Leliana said lightly, and then she stepped forwards, patting the plate of his armour. “I will miss you, you know. And how you play with kittens-“

"I was helping it train."

"And how you pick flowers-"

"Useful  _herbs_.”

"And how lovely you are! Bend down."

"What?"

"Bend  _down_.” Leliana insisted. “I cannot reach.” Sten blinked, somewhat perplexed, and did as she had asked. “See, there!” With that, she leaned, pressing a quick, affectionate peck to the side of his mouth. 

Sten blinked at her, and she grinned. “You will miss your boat if you do not go now, Sten. Will you still be Sten when you come back?”

"I will not come back." Sten said, and then he moved away, up the gangplank and onto the boat. Leliana waved at him, ecstatic to bid him goodbye, and Sten gave her a stout odd. As he moved below deck, he put his hand to the side of his mouth, where he felt the ghost of that press of lips.

In his chest, a warm, comfortable glow of contentment settled.

Perhaps there was something in such shows of affection after all.


End file.
